


Things We Said

by angel-loving-star (xASx)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: A little, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eurus is not real, Family Feels, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock fix it feels, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Parentlock Fluff, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, added plot twists, all prompts blending in one story, bbc sherlock universe kinda excluding some of season 4, johnlock challenge, kind of fix it fic, past problems, redbeard is a dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xASx/pseuds/angel-loving-star
Summary: There were things you said but you said them too quietly for me to hear. Your words were never meant for me. Your love was never meant for me. I just happened to pass by.60 'things you said' prompts from tumblr ;) blending to a final story ;) fluffy, angsty, fix-it, happy lol whole variety yey <3





	1. *things you said at 1 am

**Author's Note:**

> This has been going on for a while so I figured I'd start to post it little by little ;)  
> I usually write one of these everytime I feel I have no inspiration for my other works so it will be posted almost real-life, non-regularly and non-betaed, but I have a plot for it to blend into in the end. It also might have irregularity in the size of chapters soooo that's that :)  
> Enjoy :D
> 
> Any comments lots welcome!  
> Come say hi on tumblr: [angel-loving-star](https://angel-loving-star.tumblr.com/)
> 
> IMPORTANT UPDATE:   
> After I wrote chapter 9, my beloved partner in crime and beta reader xALx, pointed out to me that the relationship I am portraying between Sherlock and John at the moment is quite toxic and with a slight hint of abuse (of course! he beat him up at a morgue just some weeks before. that's not right AT ALL). However, since I added my own little twists as you will see from chapter 5, even if I don't state exactly what was going on -yet- (slightly lighter than what John's thoughts suggest), the relationship will need loads of work in order to be considered healthy and able to move forward.  
> I just want to say here that with this fic, I DO NOT in any way want to romanticize or portray any kind of abusing relationship as appealing. I will do my best to fix every little bit of baggage our boys carry with them and I want to make John face what he's done properly (and I want to stop hurting little Sherlock gay babe >.<). Also, I want Sherlock to stand up for himself.   
> I will put major warnings for some chapters later on which you can always pass without reading and focus on the cute ones since this story is written in fragments that you can read as one-shots.   
> But if any of you are bothered by anything, feel the tags and warning don't cover everything or that our boys' relationship is not healthy by the end of this, then PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME. I want this to be a healthy relationship by the end so it matters a lot to me.  
> Thank you all and now you can read on my sweeties <3

His eyes were moving frantically behind closed eyelids. He was dreaming. But it wasn’t one of the normal dreams. This was different. He was running in a field laughing childishly with arms outstretched touching the edges of the grass and flowers. He didn’t feel like his usual self, he was short and his feet so small. He was a child. Happy giggles followed him and he turned his head smiling to a little shorter child behind him trying to run past him laughing with a smile he knew so well. He woke up with a start. It wasn’t a nightmare but it wasn’t a dream either. He stayed still sitting up to control his breathing forgetting all about the man next to him. He only remembered when strong hands reached for him and tangled around him. He relaxed completely in the embrace. There was a quiet voice near his ear.

‘Nightmare?’

‘No.’

Pause.

‘…again?’

Nod.

‘Yes.’

The grip tightened with worry. He was trembling and he couldn’t hide it anymore. Soft hushed whispers where spoken in his ear and the arms around him rubbed his skin in reassurance guiding him back to lie down under warm covers.

‘It’s gone. It’s done. It’s not your fault.’

The words passed by as if they were an illusion. He didn’t reply.


	2. *things you said too quietly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a bit of pain in those first ones but it gets good soon ;)  
> Sherlock's POV

Back when you first moved in with me, there were times I wish you would talk to me instead of letting me guess the things you wanted to say. As the time passed I started to recognise what was bothering you each time. I knew when you were suffering, I knew when you were haunted by the past. I knew when you needed me, I knew when you were trying to hide your screams into your pillows. There were nights I lay in bed looking up the ceiling wishing it didn’t separate us. There were nights I could hear your muffled cries and I had memorised the sounds of your bed when you were dreaming. There were things you said but you said them too quietly for me to hear. Your words were never meant for me. Your love was never meant for me. I just happened to pass by.

The only time you would sleep peacefully was when sleep overcame you in our small living room after a day of exhaustion. I liked to keep you busy. I loved to exhaust you running outside, chasing thugs and solving crimes. I knew when we returned home, you would fall asleep on the couch or your armchair and those were the times when I stood or sat nearby and watched you. I was desperately looking for any sign of distress, for any clench of your lips or winch of your face, any tremor of your left hand. It was selfish but I wanted you to give me a chance to comfort you. I wanted to confront you about all the nights I knew you were thinking of taking your life and you wouldn’t let me help.

But whenever you slept with me looking at you in our small flat… whenever you left the comforts of your bedroom… you seemed to leave the nightmares inside it as well. In the end, all I ever did those nights was watch you sleep… and it gave me a reason to keep you out of your bed. They were the only times you slept peacefully. They were the only times I could take care of you without you noticing. I let myself believe that I was doing good by not asking you about your past life, that I knew enough by my observations. That was a mistake. I should have told you what I knew. I should have told you that I care. Even if it was just to hear you finally say those words you said too quietly to me… so this time I could at least try to listen to them…


	3. *things you said through your teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably forgot to mention I have no idea where to find the source for these prompts at the moment :P I have them saved screenshots in my phone, when I trace them back to their original posting in tumblr which is a mess right now, I'll provide a link ;)  
> Sherlock's POV

You were angry at me. Your eyes seemed to dart flames and lightning. You were angry at me.

‘Don’t you understand? I had to do it!’ I begged.

You just looked at me incredulously. Questions were formed and deformed in your head and I could see it. How could I risk it all for nothing? How could I break my promise to you? I had risked my life one more time today without you knowing and I returned home with blood in my hands and clothes. I had risked my life by choice and didn’t let you protect me because I was afraid. I was afraid you’d get hurt. I was afraid you wouldn’t allow me to finish this. The ground seemed to come closer and before I knew it I was on my knees in front of you. Crying.

You didn’t move. I couldn’t see your face. Then you kneeled. I felt your warmth around me as your arms embraced me tightly, never letting me go. As if I would vanish into thin air. You tucked my head under your chin and I was sniffling in your neck after a while. There was something wet and warm in my hair and it was then I realised you were crying. I gasped and tried to squeeze my arms around you reassuringly. I was never good at this. As you were never good at showing emotion. All the air was sucked out of my lungs as your grip tightened and I stayed obediently still. Your jaw was set and your muscles were tensed. I could hear your teeth squeaking like an old door needing a fix.

‘I never meant to make you so angry again…’ I said in a tight whisper, my throat contracting tensed.

‘I love you, you damn fool. Never do that again.’ slid the words between your clenched teeth.

The only salvation that made me relax into your arms once more.


	4. *things you said over the phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff!!!   
> Sherlock's POV

‘I’ll be home soon, sweetheart.’

I was always blushing when you were calling me names. Years might pass but I’m sure I will never grow used to this. It was even more embarrassing when I wasn’t expecting it. This time I was cooking our daughter’s favourite new specialty and so I had you on speaker while she was playing with her new chemistry set. She wasn’t big enough to understand all your name-calling completely but hearing this particular one she turned her little head to look me in the eye with almost a smug face someone could say. I shook the sensation off but it returned immediately afterwards when I realised what I was missing. Her aunt was here for dinner tonight and I was pretty sure she had never heard you sweat-talk like that before because when I turned around to put a bowl on the table she was right there looking at me with utter disbelief written all over her.

‘Um… Can you grab some orange juice for the little one, please?’ I semi-shouted towards the phone so you can hear me. Apparently, you caught my uneasiness as always but what you didn’t understand was that I had you on speaker so you continued cheerfully.

‘Of course, love! Whatever my blushed dazzling prince wishes.’

Your sister’s eyes grew wide and I had to leave everything on the table and grab the phone in panic feeling the heat grow on my cheeks, almost not able to breathe anymore.

‘Just so you know, I had you on speaker…’ I replied in a whisper of embarrassment not able to utter anything more loving while your sister was watching me so closely.

‘Was that really you, dear brother?!’ she had sneaked closer to me and tried to take the phone from my fingers but I retreated quickly trying to make my way to the bedroom or the bathroom at least. Thank god, I was taller than the both of you.

‘I heard that…’ you replied in a lower tone that made me hiss through gritted teeth to avoid a gasp. ‘I see she can’t hear me now, can she? Neither can she hear you, right?’ I almost heard you smirk.

I was pushed against the closed door of the bedroom unable to move.

‘No. She can’t.’ I finally said.

‘That’s perfect, I’ll deal with her when I get back then.’

‘O-okay… I’d better get back to cooking.’ I managed, slightly disappointed without meaning to be. I shouldn’t crave for more really, I had some cooking to do and your sister and daughter where just behind the door.

‘Just wait ‘till tonight and I’ll deal with you too…’

It was nothing more than a whisper but that’s exactly what made me shiver and you knew that. As it was, I blew a soft kiss pretending to be just fine and squeezed out a ‘See you soon, darling’ before I closed the phone and walked back to the kitchen red-faced to find that your sister had taken over the cooking. She smiled at me and I realised for the first time how happy she was that you found me. I smiled back in contentment and managed to put on a straight face when she winked. Then I walked passed her to the living room to play with our little one all the way wondering how much did I look forward to the after-dinner activities.


	5. *things you didn’t say at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taking a dark turn... John's POV

I was drunk. I was so damn drunk. I came to your apartment in a haze. Seeking for help? Release? Safety? Even I didn’t fully know. I was drunk and I was angry and scared. I was sure if I went back home I could hit the end. I was sure I was capable of it. Of shouting at her, ruining her… If I managed to black out I could certainly hit her. I knew this rage was brewing and she didn’t have anything to do with it. She was just an innocent. Just a child. I was scared that if no one was around I could kill her and then realise and kill myself. Or better still, someone would find me the next morning drunk almost to death and I would be kept alive to suffer the consequences for the rest of my life. You would keep me alive without meaning to hurt me but it would hurt. It would be well-deserved torture.

Anyway, I was scared I’d do her harm. I was drunk like so many other nights. My left hand was useless, I couldn’t even hold another glass with it. Desperate for more I had gone to a bar and they shoved me out just when I was about to finish their scotch supplies for good. I had left her home alone. Better alone than with me. I was a moving killing machine. You opened the door and I could see it. I could just see it in your eyes. You knew. You understood. Like always. It flared up at me. I was more angry than afraid now of what I could do. How could you always know? How come I never knew and always was blamed for it? How could you do this? How could you look me with understanding and care when I was an alcoholic freak with PTSD?

I could see myself self-loathing turn to hate towards you. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved better. But I could feel it in my drunken self. I despised… you? No. I never despised you. It was wrong. I despised something and that was mainly myself but how dare you look at me with that knowing glance full of commitment? You didn’t say anything. You just left the door open for me and passed through, making your way downstairs. Oh, of course. Of course, you knew I had left her alone. You knew and being so kind and understanding like a proper human being your first concern was to find someone to send to her. Someone specific. The only someone that you knew would be able to witness what was about to happen when you would come back up the stairs. And you were just so kind as to spare me the humiliation and send that someone back to my place to take care of the daughter I left behind alone, not able to control my temper enough to be confident that I wouldn’t hurt her.

I heard clatter and the door shut loudly due to the heavy wind and the next moment I saw you run up the stairs. I was worrying on my lower lip and your eyes lingered on the movement. I could feel the unanswered questions and silent accusations of anger going through my eyes and I knew you heard them and they hurt you. I knew I hurt you every single day since I met you and I didn’t seem able to stop. Maybe I needed you to speak to me, talk me out of it, shout at me, yell at me like my dead wife had done or even wail like my daughter was doing all the time nowadays. But no words came from your impeccable, wet lips. No one else was here now. No one was going to hear or know anything of what I wanted and was going to do. You gave me that so willingly. You gave me safety. To be angry, to shout, to hurt. You gave me space for the bubble to burst. You gave me yourself so selflessly. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I couldn’t hurt you anymore. I needed to get passed this.

In just a moment my mind’s walls collapsed at your inquisitive and worried gaze. You were standing so near. I could feel the heat of your body, the shiver that run up your spine. Your lips were open waiting for me but through all your concern and your sacrifice, your arms never reached up to embrace me and shield me from the world, telling me it was alright. As they never reached up to shield you from me, even if you were hurting all those times. I could almost spell it. You were afraid. Although you never showed it, you were afraid of me.

Something cracked and I felt your steady palms on my shoulders. There was pain at my knees. I must have collapsed to the floor and you supported me. I looked into your eyes and the rage almost woke once more but you leaned encouragingly close whispering for me to let go and that it was okay. How could you even say that? No! If I was capable to hold myself conscious until I came to our flat -your flat- every time, then I could damn well keep my senses through this and stop hurting you.

‘No!’ I heard myself cry out in pain. You didn’t reply. The world stopped. All was black. Only a warmth remained… Your warmth…

I woke up the next day in our bed -no, your bed, into which I had forced my way in so many sleepless nights. There was fresh tea on the bedside table. I didn’t deserve to be here. Not even for a moment. I deserved your care and affections much less. Yet, you have never said no or tried to stop me. You never said anything. Especially on those nights. I fluttered my eyelids and you were there, looking at me with that small smile you always managed on the cold mornings.

‘Did I…?’ I couldn’t go on… Had I blacked out? Had I hurt you? I observed your face and your lips, your eyes and neck and whatever was showing from the few unbuttoned inches of your shirt, begging for a sign. Nothing. Yet I didn’t rejoice. Marks could be left in far more private and dangerous places. Bruises that marked far more humiliating possession than the one that was shone right to your face by a cut on the lip or a nipple on a shoulder. Marks deliberately placed in places of absolute secrecy. Wounds that indicated bluntly how someone was never touched lovingly anywhere but brutally only in the places needed like an animal and then left to heed and heal its own wounds alone.

I was thinking the worst when I looked into your sky-blue eyes and they were swimming with tears… of joy? Of anger? Of hurt? You never cried for any of the last two and I finally managed to realise you were shaking your head negatively. Your tears were of relief… maybe joy but that could be underestimating my drinking habits so relief it was.

‘I’m sorry…’ I managed to choke out. For everything that I was.

Instead of speaking, you basically cuddled me and kissed me as if kissing a child’s wounds well. You took care of me as always. That evening we made love as we hadn’t done since our first time and it was the first of many nights to come… I did my best to take care of you and my daughter -ours, from some point on- ever since and I kept all my promises since that day to try and make you both happy. Sometimes I wish you never let me start what I had started all those years ago when I first came home to you drunk. I wish you had objected and knocked me out of it. I wish you had spoken words that you even leave unspoken now. Sometimes old fears creep up on me, nightmares of old memories are renewed regularly. But through it all you both seem happy and your happiness makes me happy too… Maybe happier than I deserve.


	6. *things you said under the stars and in the grass

A lovely summer night. That’s all I believed I needed. Of course, I also needed to gather up my courage but finding the right time and the right place was half the job done. We were on a case -or rather- you were on the case and as always, I followed you everywhere. I could say you had literally dragged me to Eastbourne to solve it. I had never been there before. The countryside as we pushed through the train tracks was amazingly refreshing. I didn’t know I needed this. The fresh air when we arrived almost suffocated my lungs with energy and surprisingly… courage. I smiled and looked at you with glistening eyes.

‘What?’ you said while a blush crept on your cheeks.

‘Nothing.’ I shook myself awake from the haze and turned away but I could feel your eyes on my back and I was still smiling.

It had been fairly easy for you to finally catch our guy. In fact, you were done by the end of the day! I could see you were nervous and somewhat off. I suggested to look for a place to stay but one look at you and I knew. You wanted to go back home immediately. I managed to convince you to follow me back to an inn I had seen earlier and settled us in a room. You were standing by the window looking at the stars. I approached softly and brushed your arm.

‘Hey, what is wrong today?’ I whispered leaning close to place a soft kiss at the base of your neck. You shivered. I smiled.

‘N-nothing.’

I sighed looking out the window thoughtfully and then the realisation came to me. Starry night. Summer. Countryside.

‘Come on. Got to show you something!’ I grabbed you by the wrist leading you out of the building and, after some walking, out of the small city. You were looking at me like I was going crazy but you hadn’t objected up to know. We both enjoyed the comfortable silence that was settling between us when we felt the grass under our feet and I could see your sulking for not returning home was long gone. It seemed to me that in the end this place had come into your liking and I smiled realising I was still holding your hand and you hadn’t pulled away.

Suddenly you stopped as we were walking up a hill and your fingers tugged on mine in a kind of plea.

‘John’

I turned surprised to hear you speak after half a day of silence.

‘Sherlock?’ I took a step closer worriedly reaching for your other hand. Your eyes had something burning inside them, I could see. The darkness made them glitter dark blue with stars in them sparkling. You were a miracle.

‘There’s something… I wanted to say…’ You swallowed and I tangled our fingers together. I was particularly courageous today. We were so unbelievably close. All this time we’ve been in a silent agreement about what we started together a few months earlier. But now… It was time… I could feel your breath on my lips and my encouraging smile was so natural that I didn’t even notice I was doing it.

‘Come on. Let’s lie down…’ I whispered and guided you into the grass. It was soft but also wet from the last rainy days of spring. You didn’t object but you refused to let my hand go. I squeezed your fingers reassuringly and slowly we were both on our back watching the stars…

‘I’ve mean to say… always, and I never have…’ I could hear the tremble of your lips and my heart almost broke at the familiar words. All those years ago, you had tried so much… You had lost so much for my sake…  I turned on my side and tucked you into my arms. It still seemed so new. We hadn’t said the words but we had slowly converted ourselves into what we really were. And now…

‘It’s alright…’ I whispered into your ear. One hand was ruffling through your curls with adoration. You were always such a child no matter the years, no matter the sadness, no matter your incredible intelligence… I always loved that about you even when I was rebuking you for it. I wanted you to know that now. I wanted you to know so desperately. In the end, we both took in shaky breaths and spoke the words together.

‘I love you’

You turned to look at me. I felt you shift and could almost hear your heart beating. The grass rustled beneath us and we smiled, with the stars watching over us…


	7. *things you said while we were driving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> overprotective dads drive to pick up Rosie from school <3  
> Sherlock's POV again

You never mind that I don’t drive. In fact, you never mind how many things I don’t do or don’t like to do that are normal and expected. That’s a quality I grew to worship about you, although it took me some time to realise how much you have to endure from me. Before you, I didn’t even know how to recognise that something I’ve done was ‘not good’. I always tried to be better for you but even if you shouted at me, you never really meant it. You always try to ignore the worst in me, while I try to improve them but you never demanded or asked me to do it and that let me free to realise for myself. Still, even after years, you insist on driving every single time. I can probably deduce that you don’t want to risk me driving for more than ten minutes, in case I get bored and let my head wander to cases or deductions or my mind palace and in that case, you’re probably right, I shouldn’t be driving at all.

We were driving to get Rosie from school. We hadn’t moved from Baker Street of course, but we had chosen Rosie’s school to be in a friendly neighbourhood in the suburbs of London. We wanted as much freedom for her as possible, she also loved trees and playgrounds so anything else just wouldn’t do at all for our little princess. With the traffic the ride could be quite long sometimes but since it’s her first year, she wouldn’t need an extreme amount of time to study. She should be returning with the bus for the rest of the year, except if we are close by to pick her up and she loves long bus rides anyway. Besides it would serve as a nice break before actually studying. Today though, is the first day and all of us were quite anxious on how it would go. Mrs Hudson even let us borrow her car in case the little one needed cheering up.

‘She’ll be fine, Sherlock, you’ll see.’ Your hand was on my thigh in a soothing grip. You knew I was worried. You always knew.

‘I know.’ I smiled at you, although you couldn’t see. When had I grown so overprotective and I hadn’t noticed? I sighed placing a hand above yours for a while before letting you drive properly once more. ‘I just… aren’t you worried?’

‘Of course, love. But I know she’ll be fine, you know why?’

‘No…’ my voice was almost silent. I was afraid. You knew I was and you knew why.

‘Because she’s so much like you.’

I was deadpanned. Childishly, I brought my legs up the seat to curl at my chest. My eyes were almost hurting by looking at you; wide. That couldn’t be true. It shouldn’t and must certainly not be true. Yet, you gave me a once over look with your eyes gleaming and I knew. That sentiment I had grown to understand, to see and realise and make myself believe that it truly was there. You were being affectionate, but she couldn’t be like me at all. She was only your-

‘She’s our daughter and she’s going to be alright because her dad is the famous Sherlock Holmes that has taught her how to be intelligent as hell and human at the same time. Now, based on that, I’m pretty sure the other kids will love her and she’ll make tones of friends and if anyone hurts her or tries to, then she knows we’re both here for her and we won’t let anyone harm her. We’re a badass Army Doctor and the only Consulting Detective in the world after all.’

I could only stare at you in total surprise and despair until I realised you were looking at me directly and your hands weren’t on the wheel. I looked around only to find we were already parked outside of the school! Damn it, how did you always managed to do that to me? However insecure I was about my school years and the friends I never had, your words would be more stuck with me than anything else for the rest of my life with our small family.

‘Dada, Papa!’

You were out of the car in milliseconds, following her wonderful small voice granting me with the deduction that you might actually be more worried that you let me know. I smiled and got out to greet our little girl, which judging by her tone she was just fine.

‘Hey, there sweetie!’ you took her in your arms, lifting her up and I stood there adoring you both while you threw her in the air and hugged her once more giggling. That was definitely something she got from you. Her laugh. Clear as crystal.

By the time we got back into the car she was blabbing like crazy about how the teacher let them play even after the break and how she had managed to get her first honorary sticker for her drawings and she was getting around talking about all her new friends, when the first day’s exhaustion overtook her in the back seat. I turned to see her, sliding slowly into the leather with a small yawn. Your smile was something to be written permanently in history and I smirked giving you a small kiss to the cheek.

‘Badass, huh?’ I whispered in your ear before settling for the ride home.


	8. *things you said before the wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some cute fluffy nerves before our boys wedding  
> Sherlock's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prompt is one I added to the list myself for the sake of this story :)

A small seductive whistle. That’s all it took for me to turn around distraught. Heartbeat elevated.

‘Well, aren’t you smitten?’ Your voice pressed on with a dark tone that made me pout.

‘Careful.’

‘Why? Aren’t you mine?’

I shot a glance at you incredulously. That obviously wasn’t what I was talking about, Watson. I hang my head and swallowed shifting from one leg to the other.

‘Shouldn’t be here, it’s bad luck.’ Scrambled, came the words out of me.

‘Never took you for the superstitious type.’ You smiled. I could hear it in your voice even if my eyes looked down.

In a moment, a palm was at my bicep. I straightened up, not flinching, but visibly pulling back. My fingers fidgety pretended to press the suit-collar down straight. There was no denying it. I was nervous.

‘Hey, if you changed your mind…’ You don’t finish. I have plunged myself at you from the first word. Clingy. Great. My nose in your hair, near your ear, fingers gripping at your well-tailored suit. I’ll crumble it. Mustn’t. Not good. I pull back with a shaky breath, not meeting your eyes but hearing the surprise in the small gasp that leaves your lips.

‘Sorry.’ I worry my lower lip between my teeth not caring about blooding it all over again as I did half an hour earlier.

You don’t reply, just your small calloused fingers reach and take mine, bring them up to your lips, a soft exhalation and you _kiss_. I breathe in sharply. My gaze slowly moves. My polished shoes, then the floor, then your leather brown ones, your blue trousers, your thighs -maybe those trousers where a bit much tight indeed-, your belt, the securely fitted light blue shirt… oh, God… what am I even doing?

Our eyes finally meet. Your dark stormy oceans in the soft lighting make me shiver. My fingers still at your lips.

‘Sorry’ _Sorry. Sorry again! … Sorry…_ I purse my lips. You come closer and the rebuke is already at the tip of my tongue but you shave it off with a soft peck. My lips prickle with energy now. Tingles. I feel them curl just a tad upwards. Yours do the same. Beautiful.

‘It’s okay to be nervous, you know.’ The whisper is so tender that my heart skips a bit and I feel like sweating.

‘I’m not changing my mind.’ Dear God, I sound like a petulant child. Your smile grows. How do you do that? After all those years and you just… _Do_ that, and my stomach flutters.

‘I know. Neither am I.’ It’s a little consolation really. I know there’s not a ‘mind’ to be changed. The decision was taken years ago. We just waited patiently to finally officiate it. Still, my mind and heart feel more at ease with those words coming out of your lips, formed vowels and consonants, clear and true. Spoken. Will the doubts ever go away? Look at me, I’m pathetic. More than five years have passed since our first kiss and I’m still losing myself over fleeting doubts that you’d leave me, you won’t want me anymore. That’s absurd. You deserve so much more than that. I need to have faith in you.

‘Hey…’ the melody of your voice pulls me to the surface again and I smile shakily. ‘You’re perfect and it’s going to be alright.’

‘I know.’ My head leans to one side and I smirk playfully, myself again.

‘Cocky.’

‘Doesn’t change the fact, you shouldn’t have come. Bad luck.’ My voice rumbles lowly. I see your pupils dilate, fixed on me.

‘Really?’ You almost purr in anticipation. ‘Doesn’t seem like it.’

Suddenly your face is hot against mine and I manage to catch your wrists just in time for your fingers not to mess up my hair. I knew you were going there. I whine as my lips part involuntarily and your wet tongue shoots through them, making me shiver. You press a leg between mine. My eyes widen. No, no, no. I push you back sloppily with a whine of your name.

‘What is wrong, love?’ You laugh wholeheartedly while you tone seems seriously concerned.

‘You’re suspended, Watson.’ I spit out but I try to hide a grin by looking the other way. I’m sure you can see the flush of my cheeks spreading down to my neck and ears. ‘To your post.’ I groan inwardly as you try to snake your arms around my waist.

‘Yes, alright, just tell me one thing.’ I look at you. A fire sparkling in your eyes. I bite my lip again and I don’t resist your arms this time. Your grip solid, protective.

‘Mm?’ I prompt with a slight eyeroll. You know it’s affectionate.

‘Are you alright now?’ The concern is back and I focus my gaze to yours without avoiding any show of emotion. You’re frowning and I lean just a tad to kiss the taut muscles. You let them be afterwards.

‘Yes.’ I whisper and in just a moment you have kissed me again and energetically let me go at the same time.

‘Good. My post then. See ya.’ The military salute is almost poetic as I shake my head with fondness and raise two fingers at a silent goodbye. Of course, I’ll see you in just ten minutes from now, but it still leaves me raw every time I have to leave your side. After so many years… who’d have thought?


	9. *things you said when you were crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hug, John cries, Sherlock is angry, kind of fix-it  
> Sherlock's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTICE: Before this fix-it hug-scene chapter from TLD, I'd like to point out some serious warnings for this fic in general.  
> After I wrote this, my beloved partner in crime and beta reader xALx, pointed out to me that the relationship I am portraying between Sherlock and John at the moment is quite toxic and with a slight hint of abuse (of course! he beat him up at a morgue just some weeks before. that's not right AT ALL). However, since I added my own little twists as you see from chapter 5, even if I don't state exactly what was going on -yet- (slightly lighter than what John's thoughts suggest), the relationship will need loads of work in order to be considered healthy and able to move forward.  
> I just want to say here that with this fic, I DO NOT in any way want to romanticize or portray any kind of abusing relationship as appealing. I will do my best to fix every little bit of baggage our boys carry with them and I want to make John face what he's done properly (and I want to stop hurting little Sherlock gay babe >.<). Also, I want Sherlock to stand up for himself.  
> I will put major warnings for some chapters later on which you can always pass without reading and focus on the cute ones since this story is written in fragments that you can read as one-shots.  
> But if any of you are bothered by anything, feel the tags and warning don't cover everything or that our boys' relationship is not healthy by the end of this, then PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME. I want this to be a healthy relationship by the end so it matters a lot to me.  
> Thank you all and now you can read on my sweeties <3

You were here. I wasn’t delusional. This wasn’t a drug-fuelled fantasy. You were here. Sitting opposite me in your usual armchair. Black shirt. Tight jeans. Dark blue. More like black as well. I bit my lip. My eyes couldn’t exactly focus on the colours. My head was spinning.

Breathe. It was too much effort. I had gathered up courage. Explained the case. Laid my pains bare for you. You didn’t even seem phased by it. _Look, I know **you** are. That’s why we’re all taking turns to keep you off the sweeties._

‘Oh, I thought we were just hanging out.’ I sipped some tea. My tone clipped. Really, Watson, is that all you can do? You know exactly why I took the drugs. You know why I destroyed myself. _You. It’s always you._ But you don’t keep me right anymore. I didn’t do this because your dead wife asked me to. That’s absurd for you to believe. You know it. _Molly will be here in twenty minutes._

‘I do believe I can last twenty minutes without supervision.’ Irony. Bitter smile. What else? Oh, avoid to look at you or fix my gaze at you accusingly? Maybe I can do both. I’m angry. That’s what people do, don’t they? Hurt each other when they’re angry? A pause. _Well, if you’re sure._

You don’t even notice, then. You get up. My chest heaves slightly. A knife reaching deeper than before. I’m hopeless. Pathetic. We had started something. You had promised something else. _She_ died and we fell right into hell. Wasn’t your fault, really. I should have known. Everything’s fucked up, isn’t it? _Sorry, just… you know, Rosie._

‘Yes, of course. Rosie.’ _You’ll be okay for twenty minutes._ ‘Yes, yes.’ Impatient. You are so far away. ‘Sorry, wasn’t-… thinking about Rosie.’ Liar. Liar. Liar. Shut up. Her name almost leaves a taste in my mouth. Hope. The taste of hope. She’s the reason we started what now is being destroyed little by little. I’m in pieces. No dignity left. No strength. I don’t care. There’s only last thing to do. _No problem. Listen-_

‘I should-… come see her-… soon.’ Damned hope. I can’t resist it. There’s something inside me just whispering. I love her even more than you. Hold that thought. _Yes._

Hesitation. Indifference. Gaze frozen. You know what’s going on. You won’t allow it. Thank you. You are actively ripping me apart. Aggressively. That’s just great. But she’s beautiful… my mind strays. Stupid. Focus. The case. That’s right. Oh. You were almost gone. I stopped you from leaving. Stupid. Should have let you. I don’t need this.

I breathe. Look down. My cracked ribs protest the movement. Don’t care. My fingers twitch around the mug I’ve been holding. This is ridiculous. I secretly hope I have strayed so deep in my mind that when I finally speak the words that are dying to get out of my lips, you’ll be gone and I’ll be saved from this torture.

‘Are you okay?’ A chuckle. No. You weren’t gone. Damn it. I can’t help but look at you this time. My anger’s gone. Why now? Why should this happen now? Anger is the only thing keeping me standing. I’ve reached a new high of self-resentment and loathing. Anger is all I have. Bottled up. Hidden. Much like yours. Freed when I was high on _‘the sweeties’_. Now gone. Just like that. In an instant. No. No, no, no. NO!

_Wh-wha-No. I’m not okay. I’m never gonna be okay. We just have to… accept that. It is what it is. And what it is, is… shit._

Understood. My tea is cold. Think of something. Don’t be vulnerable. You’re a psychopath. A machine. Focus. Fix it. You already knew nothing was okay. Why didn’t you just leave it alone? Why did you have to ask? Desperation.

_You didn’t kill Mary._

Oh, so you’ve crossed that off the list now? Fire. Heat. Anger. Yes. That accursed name. Brought it back. Unfortunate subject to talk about. The one that I can’t actually let that anger show. I must be the better man again, mustn’t I?

_Mary died saving your life. It’s her choice. No one made her do it. No one could ever make her do anything. But the point is… you did not kill her._ Hoarse voice. Just a tad. Always brings me down. You mean it. You mean it and I’m the idiot now. No, wait. I deserve to be angry about it. You promised. I thought I won’t lose you again but I did. Because you pushed me away after everything and I-

Stop it, Holmes. You’re just stupid. You know how you’ll always lose him. You’ve lost him countless of times. Just accept it. Accept it. _Accept_ _it_. Accept it!

‘In saving my life, she conferred a value on it.’ Deep breath. There. Not so difficult, was it? Cracked ribs. Pain. Yes, that should remind you of what you’ve lost. Keep it that way. Go on. ‘It is a currency, I do not know how to spend.’

_It is what it is._ Silence. It echoes. It is what it is. And what is that? For me? Shit for you but for me it’s… Nothing. I do not know how to spend it because I don’t want to spend it at all. Not like this. Pick this up, if you can, Doctor. You promised. I’m angry. I swallow it. I’m just broken now. Again. My jaw clenches. I need the anger. Please, don’t let it slip away again. Don’t let me feel the pain. _I’m tomorrow, six till ten, I’ll see you then._

‘Looking forward to it.’ I’d really like to see you. Yes. Maybe. But the irony creeps up. Keep it up, Holmes. Anger is all I have. _Yeah._

Oh. You picked it up. You heard the irony. You closed your eyes. You were hurt. You contained it. So maybe- No. Anger. Only. Nothing else. Bitterness. That’s what people do. Yes. Don’t they…?

_Ah…_ Of course. She couldn’t pick any other time. Of course. My heartbeat almost screeches against my cracked ribs as if to call it all out and betray me. You turn around. I’ve got to play innocent now. Oh, for the love of God. This is ridiculous. _What was that?_

‘Mmm? What was what?’ I’m panicking. Fidgety. When have I ever been fidgety for anything close to this? Pathetic. Stop it. Drink tea. Do something. _That noise._

‘What noise?’ Lower register tone. Damn it, what is wrong with me? You should know what that noise is. You should know that it doesn’t matter. You should know that my only chance ever was with-… _You. It’s always you_ … It will become a mantra eventually, I believe. You should know. You already know. You think you made it clear that because she died, we’re over. Your promise is over even if it was a promise of forever. You think you have been relieved from that duty. That vow. And it hurts like hell.

You’re pacing towards me and it takes all my willpower not to flinch. Not to pull away. Curl into myself and shout at you with the fury that I feel bubbling up inside me. The only chance I ever had was your promise. Oh, you’re jealous. You are jealous yet you don’t want this. You’re jealous and all you do is push me away. Or you don’t care. Not anymore. Which is more logical? The second? Yes. Agreed.

‘John?’ It’s not a carefully constructed façade. It’s not a front. I’m almost gone. I’m almost showing you how broken I am. The anger’s gone again and I don’t have a shield or an armour to cover myself from what’s clearly coming my way. You have no right to be like this. I have given you no right. Or have I? I’m not sure… I’m never sure… Not with you…

_I’m gonna make a deduction._ Ah, amazing. You know what, John Watson? Piss off.

‘Oh, okay, that’s good.’ Piss off. Piss off. Piss off. I hope it shows in my face because I want to be angry again but I can’t and you’ll reduce me to pieces with no reason. Is that how people feel when I do that to them? _And if my deduction is right, you’re gonna be honest and tell me, okay?_ No. No, because what I’m saying is true but what you are about to say is most certainly not.

‘Okay.’ See that? Piss. Off. ‘Though I should mention, that it is possible for any given text alert to become randomly attached to-’

‘Happy Birthday.’

The façade falls. My mind acknowledges your voice and your presence truthfully for the first time since you walked in hours ago. My lips are trembling. What am I even made of anymore? It can’t be feelings. It can’t be sentiment. It can’t be love. I don’t want it to be. Are you seriously not addressing the other matter? Would you do that? Is there hope left? You’ve shown me there isn’t.

‘Thank you, John, that’s-…’ What exactly is it? I hide myself looking after an empty mug. ‘Very kind of you.’

‘Never knew when your birthday was.’

Ha! Thank you for bringing that up. You’ve known me more than anyone else. You were my friend. My best-friend. My loyal partner -just not in matters of the heart-. My almost lover-to-be. My promise of forever... Then your puppet to blame for your wife’s death. You could’ve just ASKED.

‘Well, now you do.’ Angry. Yes. Yet again. Dark tone. Yes. See it. Feel it, John, because I’m angry with you. You made me like that.

‘Seriously, we’re not gonna talk about this?’ Jesus, are you playing with your luck? Is this your type of game with me? _Is this a game? A bloody game._

‘Talk about what?’ I flinch.

‘I mean, how does it work?’

‘How does _what_ work?’ Stop it. It hurts and I can’t feel it anymore. You know it doesn’t actually work. You’re ignoring what we started. You’re ignoring everything.

‘You and the Woman. Do you go to a discreet Harvester sometimes, is there…?’ You’re ridiculous. My mind has woken up with you in front of me and I can’t close it again. I can’t take it back. For a moment there… ‘Nights of passion in High Wycombe?’

‘Oh, for God’s sakes, I don’t text her back.’ Yes. Anger. Just for a moment, I thought you were going to see us as we were, see her as she is and remember… Remember your promise. But you didn’t. Obviously. As expected. How stupid of me. And now you’re giggling and telling me what to do. I don’t want to do anything. Only thing I can do is fix my eyes on you, let the anger fall down and show you once again what I feel with the hope you’ll get it. You won’t. So, I am not about to do it. Even though, I might be doing it unconsciously because I do, in fact, look at you with pain.

_She’s out there, she likes you and she’s alive, and do you have-_ No. You’re alive in front of me.

_How lucky you are?_ I’m not. I’m not lucky. You don’t even acknowledge what we’ve been through. I am not lucky at all. Good. Want to play hide and seek? I’ll ignore everything too. Let’s go back to the beginning then.

‘As I think I have explained to you many times before; romantic entanglement while fulfilling for other people-’

‘Would complete you as a human being.’ Oh, fuck with the intonation intensity, dear. You’re ruining it.

‘That doesn’t even mean anything.’ Only if you were the one to complete me… No. No, you don’t want this. Made it pretty clear. Cracked ribs and all. Months of silence and blame and abuse. You surely don’t want this. Not again.

‘Just text her. Phone her, do something while there’s still a chance, because that chance doesn’t last forever. Trust me, Sherlock, it’s gone before you know it. Before. You. Know it.’

I freeze. Do you really think I’ve not had my full of lost chances already? Angelo’s. The pool. After the Woman. Moriarty’s trial. Bart’s rooftop. Stag night. Tarmac. And that’s just scratching the surface of the most important ones I lost. The one time I finally took the chance… One time. It will never happen again because what I am seeing now, in your eyes, is the result. You’ll never want to take a chance like that again. Ever. I can’t look at you anymore. I just can’t. Vulnerable, stupid Sherlock Holmes… Filled with sentiment. Even when angry. Anger is a sentiment. You fill yourself with it just to avoid the other ones. Painful ones. That’s what you did and that’s what I’m doing -or trying to do- now.

_She was wrong about me._ Great. Let’s change the subject and retreat to our minds each now, shall we?

_She thought that if you put yourself in harm’s way, I’d come rescue you or something, but I didn’t, not till she told me to._ Wrong. I knew you wouldn’t come. I wanted to die but then I didn’t and I was scared and then you saved me and it’s all mixed up. Wrong. She just wanted to hurt me. I won’t be able to keep this up if you continue to say such bullshit, John.

_She taught me to be the man, she already thought I was, get yourself a piece of that._ That’s it. The last straw. You’re such an idiot. If I knew you’d react like this I would wish you never found the DVD. She’s the reason you are backing out. She’s the reason you’re ignoring all this. Us.

‘Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice. I’ve known many people in this world, but made few friends and I can safely say-’

‘I cheated on her.’ Awake again.

Yes. I know. It was with me. But I thought we agreed that this façade of trusting her had fallen. Fallen hard. Never to come back. You had insisted. I had pushed you to trust her before. I trusted her before. I promised to never do it again. I thought you didn’t care. Why are you saying this? I purse my lips. Pulse elevated, soon my breathing will be erratic. I’ll be hyperventilating if you don’t explain this to me right now.

‘No clever comeback? I cheated on you, Mary.’ You’re looking somewhere beside me. My eyes widen. Oh, God. Blame. Self-loathing. Haunted. Yes. What we did, brought you to this. Yes. The only chance we took and here’s the result. That’s why you don’t want this. That’s why I don’t want another chance either. Even if I crave for it. There’s nothing left for me. I’m still stuck dumb by this. My mind is sort-circuited. I can’t pay attention. I won’t. Something tells me you’re confessing to the ghost of your dead wife exactly what happened. Us happened. If there could ever be referenced like that again.

‘Just once. That’s all it was.’ I’m focusing back on reality again. That’s all? Really? It was also a promise. A promise. Your promise. Why are you-?

‘But I wanted more. And you know something… I still do.’

You. Still. Do.

‘I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m not that guy. I never could be.’

You. Still. Do.

‘But that’s the point.’

You. Still. Do.

‘That’s the whole point.’ Why are you doing this…? You’re falling apart, John. Please. Not for me. I don’t-

‘Who you thought I was… Is the man who I want to be.’ Your gaze turns to me now. Just a tad. Ever so slightly. Damn it, John Watson. Get the hell on with it. Just do it. I’m not sure if I said all that out loud. My face felt hot as you just averted your gaze and brought a palm up to hide your eyes. If you want it… why did you do all this? Please. God. Let your words be true. Just this once.

For a moment I’m frozen in time and space. I know that I wished for this but you leaving _me_ and me leaving _you_ -multiple times-… It has been engraved in my brain. What do I do now? Anger’s gone. I’m nothing now. Nothing. I just care. I care that you are standing there, tears streaming down your face because of something I did. How could I ever blame you? How could you ever blame me? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. It’s just so human, so confusing. I don’t understand it. I don’t want to. Not without you.

But that all just take a moment of time inside my brain. The next, I’m shoved into reality. My eyes fixed at the coffee table beside me. My hand almost trembling, leaves my tea mug there without my mind’s permission. I’m standing up. Slowly. Another moment. I’m fully aware of what is about to transpire now. The moment after the next. I’m going to comfort you. Or try to. Whichever you choose to describe it with afterwards, I guess.

When finally standing -ribs protesting again- I find that I am, in fact, nervous. My gaze falls on you and my breath hitches. Your arms seem lifeless and that’s about the only part of this that actually helps me move forward. You won’t hurt me. I hope. There is electricity tingling in my fingertips. What I am about to do is beyond me. Calm down. Breathe. Relax. John is in pain. Focus. No, how could I? How can I focus? You’re my focal point. You always were. The anchor, pulling my back from the edge of the world. Preventing me to fall in the eternal abyss. That illusion is long gone now.

You’re John. John Watson. The man I met seven years ago. Not with a limp this time but broken all the same. The Doctor that wished me to be alive, then punched me in the face when his wish became true. The man that wishes to be something better but doesn’t know how to go about it. Consumed by misplaced guilt and anger. By addiction. Blaming me for mine. For the pulse inside me saying that I need it. I need the drug, the hallucination, the relief, the impasse. I need it to dull the pain just as he needs his liquor. I need it to pass out before I die. Just as he needs his liquor. Only that doesn’t dull the pain. It makes it worse. I need it because the pain is not mine. Shouldn’t be mine. He needs it because he wants to inflict more pain. To himself. Because he wants and needs to be punished.

You were my whole world and you have pushed me away many times before. Your knuckles have found their mark on my skin. You have bruised me and broken me more than you have done with yourself. You were my centre but that has now passed and how could I ever reach out through the endless distance of darkness between us and just hold you? Yet, here I am. Still moving. Still calm. Still unwavering. Pushing onwards. And just like that, my fingers touch soft fabric and my chest feels heavy. It’s you. You leaning over me the moment I dare to touch you. As if seeking a shield. Protection. Love.

‘It’s okay.’ I whisper is a raspy voice. Look where we are, John Watson. How could we be like this? How? I will give you anything. Anything at all. I feel it as my heart quivers and trembles. As your forehead pushes against my bruised sternum with need and your tears bring a wet warmth over my shirt. You need this, then I’ll give it to you but how could _you_ of the two of us need comfort? How could you be the one entitled to it? Why do you let me be the stronger one when I am clearly not? When you owe me so many apologies and I have begged for a forgiveness I didn’t even know I needed to obtain?

‘It’s not okay.’ You’re sobbing. No. Of course not. None of this is okay. Look at us. What have we become? What did we do to each other? I act as if in a trance, my fingers sliding up your shoulder, feeling the thin threads of the black shirt underneath. Still wearing black then. Still mourning. For her or for us, John? This is definitely not okay. But what could it ever be? Did we ever have a real chance at this? Was it an illusion? For the moment, that seems to be true as my fingertips feel the warmth of your spine and neck, nestling you there. It was an illusion. Shattered the moment one obstacle arose after the other. We didn’t fight for it, John. Both of us. We gave up. Not that we weren’t entitled to. Anyone would have after seven long years of waiting and suddenly shattered chances. A deep inhale. Shaky exhale. This might be the last time I ever hold you in my arms. You’re not the steady presence I always found reassuring. You’re broken… just like me.

‘No.’ I am trembling. Imperceptibly but I am. Look at us. Two broken men with no hopes and no dreams anymore. What are we? What is this? _Not_ _okay_. Treacherous voice of yours in my head whispers. Okay. Not okay, then. But what? The broken whimpers you leave trailing all over me, make my eyes well with unshed tears. It was about time I cry too. I haven’t done for ages. Maybe I should. It’s a temporary release after all. I blink several times as I curl my body around yours defensively. Not towards you. But to the world. I’m almost protective. What are we? What is this?

‘But it is what it is.’ Comes the low whisper, words rumbling in my throat, echoing in my mind. Somehow, I found myself gripping tighter, closer. My lips ghost over your temple. I’m breathing in your scent. This is the last time. My last time. Soap. Focus. A sob overtakes you and I wish you would let your hands hold me one last time too, but one remains lifeless at your side while the other tries to stifle the sobs into your mouth. The familiar smells I would expect from wool and tea are now gone. Baby powder maybe? I search for it as you shake in my arms and I pull you closer without even noticing. No. By god, John. I can’t even deduce you have a baby right now. You haven’t been with her for a long while so her smell doesn’t appear on you. I purse my lips. Eyes now tightly closed. Concentrate. Look at what we have become. Alcohol. I would never miss the alcohol. Oh, John… Your hair product. Lots of it. I lose it, then. Our smells too close, mixing together. My heartbeat is elevated. My ribs hurt as you grip tighter without actually gripping. I can’t explain it. Those smells are not the ones I somehow found comforting once. You are different. You smell as the man who beat me up in a hospital. I’m shaking with you now but I doubt you’ll even notice. My fingers grip at your hair. Tight. You hiss. I let go. Smooth it back. It is what it is. For you it’s shit. For me it’s nothing. But what could it be for us? I’m tuning out again… One last time…

_It’s not okay…_

 

 

 


	10. *things you said that made me feel like shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two words. A journey to the past.  
> Sherlock's POV

Into battle.

If I had your experience, I could probably close my eyes and hear it all. The roars, the shouts, the cries, screams of the nearly departed. The ringing in my ears and the sand in my eyes, or rain maybe. Crawling into the mud, skin pained with a thousand prickles. Being alone, yet so close to others. The orders, the chaos, the painfully short silence when everything was dead, waiting for the next kill.

I didn’t have your experience. But I could still hear it, see it, experience it. In my brain and in the real world.

This was my fight. I could surely win this.

Except.

The suit tailored perfectly, designed expertly, chosen impeccably. It’s right there, hanging in my wardrobe, waiting to be worn and stained through the occasion. Never to be used again. Always to be kept. Sentiment.

It has been a while since I last left my armor behind to enter a situation unfavourable to me. I will have to now. For you. My dear Watson. My clean-shaven Doctor. My blogger. I’d be lost without you. I am lost already. But I must keep it to myself, be by your side, manage this one last miracle for you.

The church is quiet. The priest is reading the respective vows. The world sways to the side and I am afraid of falling apart right in front of you, begging you to stop this, as my heart splits in half. No. Not ‘splits’. Split implies quick work. If I know one thing in life is that my heart, which always belonged to you as I have realised, wasn’t split quickly, in a second, with the respective sound implied by the verb, painfully but healing right after. No. My heart was cracked. Slowly, methodically, as if by the hands of a clever surgeon. How fitting, isn’t it? Doctor Watson. It took years. Me licking my wounds or you mending them, pulling me together only to crack it a bit more right after. Or. Or waiting for me to inflict this pain upon both of us. No. Not surgeon. Jailor. Torturer, better yet. Not you. Not your fault. You just didn’t observe. You just didn’t know. It was me.

Self-hatred. It is something I learnt to cherish. The one last thing we both share. I can see it in your eyes, every time you look my way through that painful speech for sickness and health, better or worse and whatever the hell else before the damned conclusion of the overused question that would haunt my life forever without you even knowing. ‘Till death do us part. Why do you hate yourself so, my dear Watson? Did I break a promise? Did you?

Maybe that was it. Maybe you had given me such a promise and I had given it back, without realising. That night or the other. The pool where we decided to die together. Death wouldn’t do us part then, it would take us both. Maybe it was then. Sealed not in paper or in jewellery or tokens but in a simple look. The look you had in your eyes when you looked at me afterwards. Every time. The look I had myself when I watched you for months, trying to decide how you’d take it. My death. My fake death. It did do us part then. Because you couldn’t follow. Or you could. Or rather… you could go somewhere, I couldn’t follow. Thank God, that hadn’t happened. But it was close. Pretty close. Many times. I knew it, had seen the footage, had heard the rants of my brother for stealing it or hacking it halfway around the globe. Discoverable, he said. In danger, he said. When he couldn’t even bloody keep you safe for me. He had one job. One job that he conveniently gave away to… the love of your life? I don’t know. I know nothing anymore.

You don’t smile when the question is posed. You don’t look at her. You didn’t even propose to her. Not really. I interrupted. Maybe I should interrupt now? No, the time for objections is passed. I didn’t speak, so why should I do it now? Drama queen. Your eyes flicker to me and you are serious. Deadly serious. At your own wedding. Excuse me if that does twist the knife a little more. Excuse me if my cracked heart clenches. Excuse me if I want to let go and faint, disappear. Because she is a choice. You had a choice. I came back and you chose her, even when it doesn’t seem as if you truly love her. A choice. A choice to avoid… Me? How can I be so selfish? After everything… to still believe-

‘I do.’

Shit. Absolute, terrible, damned, fucking shit. I’m swearing more than I have in my whole life. Because those words aren’t meant for me. Not addressed to me. Not ever. Two simple words and we’ve both fucked them up. My lips twitch almost into a snarl which I hope can pass as a smile because I can’t handle it. I can’t. How can I still believe the world is swirling around us? How can I still hope your world is focused on me? Selfish prick. No, we are not just the two of us against the rest of the world anymore.

I feel like I’m nothing. No one. Not someone that matters, anyway. There are miles between us. There is no us. I feel like shit. I feel the need to crush myself. To finally, let the despair take over and consume me. My mind goes to dark alleys. A cigarette. The sweet fogginess of the needle. You should be happy. I should help you be happy. But you clearly are not. I mistake it as my fragile sentimental heart playing tricks. I block all signs, I even go as far as to delete them. Whole conversations lost. I persuade myself that you are happy with her. This is what you always wanted. This is how I should go on.

I’m worthless. I don’t deserve anything. From anyone. Much less you. I bring your eyes in my mind, soft and translucent as you look at me with fondness. Nobody had ever acknowledged me as anything personally close to them. Nobody ever before you. Maybe it was pity. But there was a tremor in your voice and you almost said you love me, broadly speaking. _Yes, of course you are, you’re my best friend._ It felt like more than that. So much more, at the time.

Now it feels empty. It gnaws on me and eats me from inside. You vowed to be with a woman for the rest of your life. You want that. A family life. Quiet. Peaceful. Straightforward. You don’t want me there. This honour now feels hollow. You wanted me here as a goodbye. To look at me in the eye when you say the words and crush every bit of me into tiny pieces. You wanted to make sure, I understand and stay away. It must be that. That’s what you wanted. Didn’t you? But you didn’t know. You weren’t cruel. You never knew. What I’m thinking is unfair. No, maybe it’s not. You should know. You should observe. If you didn’t know, it’s because you didn’t want to.

Well, if you want a goodbye, you have it all wrong. All I want is your happiness and if I convince myself that this way you are truly happy… then there’s nothing else to say. I will always feel like shit. I will sometimes look you in the eye without my walls up because you have destroyed them. I will look at you with despair like I did when I told you she was pregnant with your child, which now I know with a little bit of foresight. I won’t be able to help it. But I will stay away. Protecting you from as far as I can manage. The only bit of hope that will be kept in my heart would be the hope of avoiding humiliation. The hope that those fleeting moments I won’t be able to control, will pass by you like they mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t observe me, John. Not anymore. Take your eyes away from me forever.

The silence after a long fought and well lost battle will follow me everywhere. My life will be filled with it. I will keep finding dead bodies around my mind. I will keep burying them away. I won’t interfere in another war. The air will whistle between the leaves of the oak tree above my fake grave that will soon be filled. The flags, bloodied and torn will sag weakly over their posts. The canon holes will never be filled with new ground. All will be black. No crops will grow here anymore. Nothing new will be ever built. The fires will just slowly go out and leave this. My soul. The battlefield. Empty. Void.


End file.
